


Magic in the Moonlight

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, NC-17, PotterWood, Slash, Smut, adult, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident during a Quidditch training session has left Harry with a small injury, and Oliver Wood appears to be giving himself a harder time than he ought to. Having agreed to go on a date with Oliver, Harry couldn't be happier. But there's a small part of him that says everything isn't what it seems. Is this just a pity date, or is there more to Oliver than Harry first thought?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic in the Moonlight

It seemed so unreal. How could he have managed to secure a date with Oliver Wood, one of the most sought-after men in Hogwarts, especially by the girls. It was highly irregular to say the least, and as Harry dashed around the Gryffindor Boys' Dormitory, there was a constant, annoying buzz in his ear that he just couldn't shake off. But then he realised that it was in fact Ron trying to give him helpful tips on staying calm whilst on his date.

"Don't put yourself out there too much," he advised. "Don't dress up too smartly either; keep it casual but formal. And you might want to think about talking often, but not all the time. Oh and you really shouldn't try and make a move on him; it's only the first date, and you'll probably scare him away if you do…"

"Gee, thanks for that, Ron," Harry said sarcastically as he tried to spike up a stubborn quiff of hair at the front. Why couldn't his body just behave itself? The last time he'd had a 'malfunction' he was in the changing rooms and looking directly at Oliver, which brought his mind round to their Quidditch training session earlier that day.

Harry had taken a bludger to the face and fell from his broom. If it hadn't been for Oliver's quick thinking and an ability to work wonders with his wand, Harry would have probably been dead by now. Instead, the worst injury he sustained was a broken nose, which Madame Pomfrey had repaired in the blink of an eye, but the bruise remained.

"Here, Harry," Fred offered him a jar of yellowish paste as he tore a mountainous pile of clean clothes out of the wardrobe in frustration.

No matter how many times he changed, he just couldn't find the right combination of clothes that were sure to make Oliver feel attracted to him. A red polo shirt and black trousers didn't exactly scream "I think I'm in love with you"; if anything, it could serve as a warning beacon for Oliver. "I'm desperate and I want love" would have been a more suitable description of Harry's appearance just then, and it took him at least an hour before he finally settled on an attire for the night that he actually liked; a grey-and-blue-striped shirt, which announced to the world, "I'm formal but fun", and a pair of magically-pressed grey trousers to match.

"What does this paste actually do?" Harry asked as he cautiously unscrewed the lid off the jar.

"Gets rid of bruises," said George. "Takes about an hour, but it'll go away eventually."

"An hour?!" Harry said exasperatedly. "I've got to meet Oliver down by the Lake in fifteen minutes! I can't wait an hour to get rid of this bruise!"

"We could always try changing the colour of it," Fred suggested. "But it'll mean changing the colour of the rest of your face as well…"

"Oliver won't be bothered by a simple bruise," George said surely. "He's not shallow."

"I can't just waltz up to him with a great purple splodge on my face!" Harry complained. "What am I going to do?!"

"Harry, just calm down," Fred sat (more like shoved) Harry down onto the bed and demonstrated a few deep-breathing exercises. "Oliver is  _not_  shallow. He doesn't care about looks, really. If he likes you for you, he'll give you little signs telling you that…"

"Are you sure about that?" Harry said anxiously. "What if he doesn't like me?"

"Harry,  _he_  asked  _you_  out," George reminded him. "How could he not like you? Besides, after the accident earlier you both kissed, didn't you? If that's not a hint that he likes you, I have no idea what is. He was really worried about you, you know? When you came back up for dinner in the Great Hall, he wouldn't shut up about you while we got changed into normal robes."

"Really?" Harry said hopefully.

"Really," George said. "Now get your butt down to the Black Lake; you don't want to be late for your hot date," he added with a wink.

With only five minutes to spare, Harry was finally prepared for his date with Oliver, but as he left the Gryffindor common room his sense of elation was marred by negative thoughts. What if Oliver decided that he  _didn't_  want to go out with him? What if this was just a pity date because of what happened during training? What if he messed this up somehow?

The questions followed him all the way through the corridors of the castle until he left through the Entrance Hall. A cool, summer breeze rustled the treetops of the Forbidden Forest as he trotted down the sloping lawns beneath an inky, star-strewn sky that twinkled down upon him, and the Black Lake seemed to glow in the radiant moonbeams that illuminated the night.

He cast his mind back to the events of the training session as a tiny silhouette appeared at the shore of the Black Lake.

It had been going exceedingly well for the most part; Oliver was a spectacular Keeper, as always, the Chasers were improving in leaps and bounds, Harry's speed on his broom was increasing, and Fred and George showed why they had attained the nickname "The Human Bludgers". It happened so quickly; one minute Harry was dodging Bludgers sent by Fred and George, then the next he was lying with a broken nose on the Quidditch in Oliver's arms. Although Fred and George couldn't apologise enough to Harry, it wasn't entirely their fault; Harry had let himself get distracted by absorbing Oliver's chiselled features. That was when a Bludger smashed into his face and knocked him off his broom. It was a good thing that Oliver knew a good Cushioning Charm to break his fall, otherwise he would have been dead.

The silhouette at the Black Lake grew larger, and small details became visible in the moonlight. It was Oliver. Dressed in a black turtleneck shirt and brown pants, he looked ravishing, and Harry couldn't help but blush a little bit as he paced towards him, smiling widely.

"Someone seems happy," Oliver said amusedly. His sexy Scottish accent drove Harry crazy. "Is it because of our date, by any chance?"

"Maybe," Harry grinned cheekily. "It's really beautiful tonight, isn't it?"

"It is," said Oliver, and he placed himself in front of a nearby tree, resting against the trunk. He patted the grass next to him as he stared out into the vast horizon beyond the Black Lake. It truly was a breathtaking spectacle. "I could say the same for you…"

Harry blushed even more. Was Oliver Wood really trying to flatter him? If he was, it was definitely working. "Thank you," he said quietly, and he joined Oliver on the grass. "You look amazing as well…"

"How's your nose feeling?" Oliver said. His expression was that of a concerned one.

"A little bit sore still, but it should be fine," Harry said.

Then Oliver turned to face him. "That bruise looks nasty; are you sure you're okay?"

"Honestly, I'm fine," Harry said, and he averted his gaze away from Oliver's entrancing eyes. It wouldn't do to be caught staring quite just yet.

"You really had me worried back at the pitch," Oliver continued. While he was trying hard to maintain the conversation, there was something of unease in his voice, as though he was nervous. "I didn't want to think that I'd lost you…"

"I… wow…" Harry said. This was quite a large confession. Did it mean that Oliver truly did feel something for him? "When I first came back round after falling and saw you in front of me, I thought I'd really died and gone to Heaven."

Oliver said nothing, but the slightest hint of a blush spread across his cheeks.

They sat there for a few more minutes until Harry picked up from the conversation, which was fast degenerating into an awkward silence.

"That kiss," he said. "It meant a lot to me. When I was getting ready, I was worried that you'd just offered me the date out of pity…"

"I don't date people out of pity," Oliver assured him, then he drew himself up to Harry's ear and whispered, "I only date the people that hold a place in my heart…"

"I-I have a place in your heart?" Harry stuttered quietly.

"Harry… you haven't just got  _a_   _place_  in my heart; you've got the  _whole_  of it…"

Harry remained silent; this revelation was almost too much to handle, and he could feel a burning sensation in the back of his eyes. He dared not speak for fear of his voice breaking.

"I love you…" Oliver said, barely audible. "I've watched you grow up, mature, become the man you are today… I think I want to spend my life with you…"

"I…" Harry couldn't muster the energy to speak; the prospect of Oliver Wood confessing his love for him was so overwhelming that any form of comprehensible speech had been stripped from him, and all he could say was, "Wow…"

They remained there for even longer, letting the painful silence sink into their skin, when Oliver eventually stood up and said, "I shouldn't have said that, should I? You're not ready for a relationship-"

"Oliver, don't go," Harry pleaded. "I'm more than ready… for you…"

Oliver looked at Harry unsurely then knelt in front of him. "I don't want you to feel pressured, Harry. Please, make sure you know what you want before you commit…"

"But I  _do_  know what I want," Harry said happily, finally overcoming the shock of having a man four years his senior wanting to go out with him. "What I want is you… Ollie…"

"Then you won't mind if I…" Oliver's face drew nearer, and it was now that Harry truly realised just how deep his hazel eyes were as they glistened in the moonlight. Their lips brushed one another but didn't make full contact, instead lingering teasingly close.

"I love you, Ollie…" Harry muttered, and then he closed the gap between them.

It was magical. Harry's tongue probed at Oliver's mouth, and Oliver was more than willing to allow him access. They moaned into each other as they drifted away into their own special world, and Harry subconsciously cupped the back of Oliver's head when they laid together on the dry grass.

Oliver's hands were no stranger to caressing someone, that much was clear; they roamed around Harry's body and pressed into all the sensitive spots, grazing over his abs and massaging his pectoral muscles, but they didn't quite provide the gratification that Harry sought from Oliver right now.

"Ollie… Have you done this before?"

"You'd be my first…" Oliver muttered. "I've never been with anyone else before…"

"You're a natural at this…"

"Shhhhh… just enjoy it… I love you…"

Harry gasped as Oliver made light work of his shirt and started suckling on his neck. Such affection Harry had never felt towards another person, but being with Oliver was a completely new and exciting experience for him.

It felt highly adventurous when the cheeks of his butt were being squeezed beneath the fabric of his trousers, and the skin-to-skin contact made him suddenly aware of his painful arousal. Harry's erection prodded into the hard abs on Oliver's torso, and the small whimpers he let escape from his mouth announced that he needed release.

"We can go in one of three directions with this," Oliver said, and he stared Harry in the eye. "The first option is for us to stop before we go further than what you're ready for; the second option is for us to go all the way here in the moonlight; the final option is for us to take this inside the castle for a little more privacy and intimacy. Which will it be, my love?"

"I'm ready, so I don't think the first option is of any relevance," Harry shook his head. "I  _do_  like my privacy, but it's so romantic out here…"

He lay beneath Oliver, their crotches aligned, and contemplated whether he would prefer romance or privacy, eventually deliberating on the former.

"What I want from this relationship," Harry said, and smiled at Oliver's brightened eyes when he said the word 'relationship'. "Is love and romance."

"Then it's love and romance you're going to get…" Oliver said huskily, and he trailed his tongue down Harry's jaw, then encapsulated their lips together once more.

He savoured Harry's subtle tremors as he nibbled on his lower lip, and when he felt Harry's hands slip beneath the waistline of his trousers it sent shockwaves of excitement through his system. Then something prodded at his torso again. He realised that it was Harry's erection growing ever-harder.

"Let's see what we can do about that…" he smirked mischievously. He took a hold of Harry's trousers and gave a quick yank. The buckle snapped under the strain of his muscular arms, but the trousers fell loose regardless. With another big heave, the trousers slid from Harry's legs, and his underwear became misaligned; his naked butt touched the cold grass, but his front remained covered. "We can't have that now, can we?" with a wide grin, Oliver gave Harry's underwear a sharp tug and removed them as well, leaving Harry completely bare beneath the great beaming orb in the sky.

"I want to see you naked now…" Harry said. Then he picked his trousers up and covered his front with them, a cheeky glint in his eyes. "You don't get to see me in all my glory until I've seen you!"

"Cheeky little bugger, aren't you?" Oliver chuckled. "Alright then."

In a flash, he had lifted his shirt up and over his bronze, tanned abs and then practically ripped his pants off. Throwing them to one side, he flexed his Quidditch-defined muscles in the glare of the moonlight, and Harry's mouth watered as he gazed upon his god-like form.

"You look…" Harry was cut off when he noticed Oliver's length, twitching in the twilight, looking even more delicious that he had ever imagined. "Wow…"

"You want this?" Oliver raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You're gonna have to work for it…"

"I think I can do that…"

Harry clambered to his knees. He was taken completely off-guard by just how big and juicy Oliver's length looked; how could that ever fit inside my mouth let alone my butt, he thought privately. But he trooped on. Bending low, he breathed out slightly and watched as his breath ghosted over the head of Oliver's dick. He grasped the base and flicked his tongue over the tip, then felt a little proud of himself when Oliver gave a low growl. Harry licked it again, and Oliver growled once more.

For a while, Harry remained there, licking bracingly at the slit of Oliver's cock, and it was only when Oliver's begging hands pushed against his head that he decided to take it one step further; in a single gulp, Harry took Oliver in his entirety.

"Wow, Harry…" Oliver moaned loudly, for his body was crippled under the sensations that were bounding through him as Harry bobbed slowly up and down on his throbbing length, which was leaking laborious amounts of precum.

Harry took the bitter substance in his stride as he continued to stimulate Oliver, using his tongue to massage the sensitive underside and rubbing the base of the shaft with his hand. Oliver growled and groaned, and bucked into Harry's mouth, but Harry maintained his firm grip, and as he felt every vein along Oliver's fleshy pole pulsating on his tongue, he sucked harder. The gratification this supplied Oliver with was obvious; his breathing hitched, and his dick streamed substantial pools of precum onto Harry's tongue.

Faster and faster Harry sucked. He knew that Oliver was growing close; Oliver's grip on his head tightened, eventually becoming so compressing that it felt as though his head would implode.

Then, with a deafening cry, Oliver came like a cannon in Harry's mouth, his pearly semen firing out of his slit with such a ferocity that it created its own backwash and splashed outwards, eventually slicking his dick with a creamy coat.

"That… was… amazing…" he panted, but he showed no signs of exhaustion. "But I'm… not… finished… with you… yet…"

"W-What do you mean?" Harry said, somewhat unsurely.

"I'll go all the way with you," said Oliver, but when he saw Harry's worried expression he added, "If you feel ready enough, that is. It's meant to hurt the first time you do it…"

"I-I think I'm ready…" Harry said, and he laid on his back with his legs open, face still covered in Oliver's hot cum.

"Are you sure?" Oliver said concernedly, noting the anxious expression on Harry's face. "If you don't to it's completely fine-"

"No," Harry assured him. "I want to, I really do. I want you to make love to me…"

"If you're feeling ready… alright… you'll need to brace yourself though…"

Oliver grabbed his wand and pointed it at both his dick and Harry's waiting hole, then muttered, " _Lubrico!_ ", and used the conjured lubricant to make them both slippery and supple. He aligned himself with Harry, making sure that they would both be comfortable whilst having sex.

"Sharp push now," Oliver said in what Harry thought to be a sexy, authoritative voice. "Umph."

"Ollie!" Harry cried out, for the head of Oliver's cock had slipped inside him, and although he loved the feeling of having his lover inside him, the pain was almost too much to bear.

Like a fire raging in his butt, Harry thought he was going to burn into ashes right there on the grass. The tight ring of muscles screamed their disapproval, but Oliver remained inside not out of spite, but to help Harry adjust to his presence.

"It hurts so much…" Harry said, tears misting his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Oliver said as soothingly as he could. He bent over and placed a kiss to Harry's lips, hopefully to take his mind off the searing pain in his lower body. "It'll be over soon, I promise…"

"I hope so," Harry said through gritted teeth. "It's a good thing I love you, otherwise this pain wouldn't be worth what's coming."

"From what I can feel inside you, it'll definitely be worth it…"

They remained there for a few minutes, completely unmoving. Fully-sheathed inside Harry, Oliver gave a small nudge to one side to test the manoeuvrability, and quickly uttered his most sincere apologies to the man below him, for he had unwitting stretched a piece of muscle that wasn't quite prepared yet.

"Ow, ow, ow…" Harry muttered.

"Harry, I'm so, so sorry!"

"It's fine," Harry winced slightly. "Just-Just ask me next time you try to refurbish my arse, please…"

"I will," Oliver said quietly, and he pressed his lips comfortingly to Harry's once again. "Let me know when you feel ready…"

"Okay. It really is romantic out here, isn't it?"

"It is…" Oliver replied. "I've always loved romance. I don't know why; it's just always been really appealing to me, for some reason."

"I feel the same way," Harry said, and he gazed deeply into Oliver's crystalline eyes. "I love you…"

"I love you too," Oliver brought their lips together again, and this time they didn't part for a significant amount of time afterwards, when Oliver felt something relax around his cock.

"It doesn't hurt anymore…" Harry muttered to him.

Oliver's heart trilled; he finally had the chance to make love to someone he cared immensely for, so when he gave his first slow, gentle push, he was overjoyed to hear a loud grunt of pleasure escape from Harry's mouth.

"How does that feel?" he asked.

"Amazing…" Harry gasped, and he smiled weakly while Oliver delivered wave after wave of ecstasy in a horizontal tango. "Oh Ollie…"

"Harry…" Oliver moaned, his dick being hugged by the surrounding walls of muscle as he thrust in and out at a leisurely pace. "Your arse feels so good…"

"Your dick fills me up… I want more…"

"You can have more whenever you like…" Oliver captured Harry's lips and refused resolutely to let go.

Unable to speak, for his lips were locked to Oliver's, Harry simply made do with moaning as loudly as his lungs would allow him, and within minutes the night was alive with the cries of nature at its finest and most unabashed glory.

Crippled with pleasure, all manner of speech restricted, Harry could do nothing but caress and grope every inch of Oliver's perfectly muscular frame, and when his fingers slipped into the crack of his lover's butt, he was struck by inspiration.

Throwing caution to the wind and completely disregarding the possible consequences it could have on him, Harry poked his finger directly into Oliver's hole. The results were immediate, and would have been crushed under the pressure if Oliver had actually been driven to orgasm; Oliver's arms snapped tight shut around Harry's chest and his thrusting speed increased rapidly.

It seemed as though it was some sort of a race, though Harry knew that this was not the case; Harry had grown used to Oliver's comfortable pace, and the sudden surge of speed took him utterly by surprise, but he took it as it came and savoured the delicious feelings of being stabbed in the prostate repeatedly.

A familiar knotting sensation appeared in Harry's scrotum, and he knew instantly that his body was about to let go. He roared and wailed as the pleasure became almost too much, and when Oliver gave a particularly hard shove forwards, slamming directly into his prostate once again, he screamed his oncoming orgasm.

Endless ropes of sticky white fluid erupted out of his dick, and his arse constricted so tightly that he could feel every ridge and crevice along Oliver's dick.

Oliver was struggling to cope; the pulsing of Harry's butt was driving him insane, but he wanted to ride his orgasm out so that he could watch Harry achieve that level bliss he so desperately wanted to give him. His body betrayed him, however, and he hollered so loudly that a flock of birds in a nearby tree blasted out from the branches in fright.

He was coming harder than any masturbation session had allowed him to before, and this time he knew that he had done more than stimulate himself to earn this reward. His mind swam and became fuzzy, so he collapsed next to Harry, panting and wheezing, as they both descended from their personal paradise.

When at last their separate orgasms had subsided, and their common sense was starting to fade back into place, Oliver subconsciously wrapped his arms around Harry and held him close.

"That was incredible," he muttered. "I really do love you."

"I love you too, Ollie," Harry replied, then he placed a sweet kiss on Oliver's chin. "I'm tired. Can we sleep out here for a bit before we go to bed?"

"Sure," Oliver said, and he gave Harry the subtlest of satisfied grins.

They lay together, basking in the moon's warm rays, completely naked and uncaring of what onlookers from the castle would think, for they were both secure in each other's arms, and nothing could take this away from them. As Harry drifted off into a deep slumber, he thought of this night as magic. Magic in the moonlight.


End file.
